


Mono a Mono

by Doceo_Percepto



Series: NSFW Little Nightmares II [4]
Category: Little Nightmares (Video Game)
Genre: Animal Abuse, Cannibalism, F/F, It's Six what do you expect, Six is awful
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:42:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27093742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doceo_Percepto/pseuds/Doceo_Percepto
Summary: It’s really hard losing people. Luckily, Six has some ideas about coping with Mono’s death.
Series: NSFW Little Nightmares II [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2074623
Comments: 12
Kudos: 68





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Starting a new story? Without finishing previous ones? Me?! Never!
> 
> Lonely Rat Girl gonna be my Dishonored-inspired champ here.

Mono was gone. On some level, Six had almost started to almost believe he was immortal. After all, he’d stayed with her a whole three years, which was the longest time she’d had any friend. Except now he was dead and there wasn’t any getting him back. He’d been dead for a few weeks, actually, and it was frustrating Six that she couldn’t shake the hollow feeling when she woke up and there was nobody beside her.

She’d never really minded being alone before. Well, not really. Right…? She chewed her lip in frustration, recalling far too many incidents in her past that made that statement untrue. Too many nights holed away on the Maw, shivering, taking paltry solace in its nauseating rocking. She used to pretend that the ship which by day tormented her, by night was a friend, creaking and groaning in familiar ways. Likewise, there was too many mornings alone on the streets, stroking her own arms and face and wishing that the hands providing consolation were not her own.

All right, fine. She was lonely even before Mono.

Mono changed everything. He didn’t run away after learning what she really ate. He didn’t call her names, or belittle her. He was scared, at first - she didn’t blame him for that. Anybody would be scared. But he stayed. And for three years, he’d been her constant companion. It just wasn’t very safe, separating, and anyway, why would they?

Together they’d huddled under the trash and debris of the city, else they’d crawl into some hidden nook or cranny. Space was often cramped, but neither minded. And all through the night, his warmth would be beside her, his steady breathing. If she jerked awake from a nightmare, his drowsy voice would murmur soothingly in her ear, and his calloused hands would rub her side. And when she woke in the morning, she could trust that he’d be there. Sleeping, of course, because he always slept in. But he’d be there, and if she was feeling particularly affectionate, she’d linger to watch him.

When there was danger, she trusted him body and soul to have her back, and he trusted her. By the end, the two of them were moving like water, so little to separate one from the other, blending together as a single-minded entity. When there wasn’t danger, they played, and all the rest of the world dropped away, its evils becoming blessedly insignificant for a few hours at a time.

He had been wonderful.

Because of him, she wasn’t used to loneliness anymore. Everywhere she went, something was missing. The gloom of his absence was insidiously difficult to shake off. At every turn her mind expected Mono to be there, only for reality to barge in, over and over. He wasn’t there, and never would be again.

She had never missed anybody the way she missed him. Fiercely, deeply. How could she ever find anyone like him? And if she even did, how long would it take? It could be whole years.

To stave off despair, eating once more became her favorite hobby. Stalking prey, eyeing their weaknesses, building anticipation. The powerful pleasure of overcoming them and burying her teeth in warm living flesh. The mingling heady passion as their bodies twitched and weakened and died beneath her. And the savory waves of bliss after the fact, that made her want to cuddle up to her victim and doze off. She even did, a few times.

Eating was good; it was intimate. It could make her feel (however briefly) like she wasn’t alone. Not while she was forcing another person into herself.

She could never regret eating, and she didn’t regret how much she overate after Mono’s death. She did, however, feel cold and hollow when she woke up beside a long cooled corpse, and the forlorn wind on the horizon was the only noise, reminding her of her solitude.

Six did not like unpleasant feelings. She did not like lingering on the past, and she did not like being consumed with grief and loneliness. As a general rule, she lived her life according to what made sense to her: live in the moment, don’t dwell on things you can’t help, and do your best to be happy no matter what.

So this fixation on Mono, this longing for his return… it frustrated her.

Six was a solution oriented person. If something interfered with her principles, if something was making it too hard for her to be happy and carefree, then she liked to address it promptly. She liked having a plan of action.

There was no replacing him, no, but maybe there was something she _could_ do. At least until she was ready to move on. Another kid would bring her company like Mono had. Nobody could be exactly like him, and they’d pale in comparison, but she could pretend, a little. Her and Mono sometimes played pretend games.

This would be just like that.


	2. Chapter 2

The other kids liked to call her the Lonely Rat Girl. 

She didn’t like the name, but she’d heard it enough times to not react to it. See, if she ignored them, they didn’t pick on her as much, but if she showed that she was upset… well, better not! Yeah, she didn’t really need to get the crap kicked out of her again. Much better to keep her head down, and keep doing what she was doing: namely, surviving. Alone. 

Well, alone if you only counted _people_ , which is what she assumed those other kids were counting. That’s why they called her lonely. They assumed being _alone_ meant being _lonely_. It was ironic, though: most kids formed groups because it was simply safer that way, but _none_ of those groups had been welcoming when she was kicked to the curb. Why did they care if she went her own way? Why was it their concern if she didn’t have any friends that were people?

People were always fussing about what others were doing. People were always killing and stealing. People were complicated. 

That’s where the rat part of the name came in. 

She had never liked rats when she was younger. The trash out back had been infested with them, and their glittering eyes and sharp teeth had _terrified_ her. She’d even suffered nightmares about a swarm of them devouring her alive! So in some way, she understood the hatred people harbored for them, and she understood the fear that kept them from seeing the truth. 

She probably would still be afraid, if not for Skittles. And Cashew. And - 

Well, no, it was probably best to start with Skittles.

She met him almost exactly one year ago, in the dead of winter. She got thrown in the trash, because she’d skimped on her chores with the excuse that she was too sick. Maybe her parents were just waiting for the chance to get rid of her. She didn’t know, really, why a person might feel it was okay to throw away another person. She felt guilty about it for many months, until tentatively convincing herself it was probably her parents’ fault. Probably. 

At any rate, Skittles had been there in the trash, too, nestled amongst the bottles, plastic bags, and crinkled cans. He was like her: sickly, and too thin. He shivered with his bald tail tucked around him, his fur mottled and in patches, his left ear torn and bloody. 

You know what’s silly?

She’d been scared of him, of this trembling rat too ill to even get away from her. 

She’d been _scared_. 

But he didn’t hiss, or bite, or do anything freaky. 

And that was the thing, about rats. They were one of the few creatures in this world _not_ actively hunting children to death and destroying their lives. She hadn’t even realized it before. Sure, they sometimes ate from the bodies strewn in the alleys and in the streets. It was meat. She didn’t blame them for that; they had to survive just like anyone else. But they were only eating for survival. They weren’t part of a systematic operation of death and slaughter. They were just thrown in this world and had to deal. They didn’t attack people; they _fled_ people. For damn good reason, excuse her swearing.

People were the cause of all the death -

She was getting ahead of herself. 

The point was, Skittles didn’t try to hurt her. Honestly, he barely had the energy to lift his head. Maybe it was seeing his pathetic state that finally coaxed her out of her fear. Maybe it was the bitter, bitter cold, and her lack of a coat, and the fact it hurt to move after what her parents had done. 

Whatever the reason, she ended up curled around him, fingers clenched in his mottled coat. She had thought, _we’re going to die. We’re going to freeze here, together._ It was the slightest bit comforting to think that at least she wouldn't die alone. 

Except… she didn’t die. Neither did he.

By some miracle, they both made it to morning, when the sun began to burn through the fog in the city, and they both roused, cold and confused but alive. 

Soon as his awareness returned, Skittles was gone, away with nothing more than a flick of his tail. She’d thought she would never see him again - which went to show she really ought to stop assuming things.

Of course, she _did_ see him again, after the other kids and their tiny gangs had made it clear they weren’t opening applications for friendship, so to speak. After she was left hunched by the sewers and nursing the bruises and cuts. 

That’s when he turned up, sitting on his haunches, with a bright red skittle in his mouth. And you know what? It made her smile, despite everything. He dropped it a good five feet away, too wary to approach. But then he put distance between them, and stared at her. 

A rat gave her a gift of a Skittle. She nearly laughed, but it wasn’t mean spirited. At least someone around here was nice, right?

You can imagine where the name came from, as he ran back and forth between her and some other location, bringing in skittle after skittle for her to eat. 

It took a long time before he was comfortable enough for her to be within a foot of him, and even longer before he let her pet him. She didn’t blame him. Life as a rat wasn’t any easier than life as a kid, she learned. Everybody was out to kill you one way or another; not even the other kids left rats alone. 

That’s how she found Cashew, actually. It was well into summer, when the stench in the gutters was fetid and the air was humid. By this time, she’d gotten a little hide out all of her own. She had a blanket to lay on, and a flat pillow, and Skittles usually slept nearby. She didn’t really adopt him so much as he adopted her, because the changes in her life were real slow. First she was just leaving out bits of food for him, and sometimes he’d drop bits of food for her, too. 

Often there wasn’t enough overall to be picky about the fact she was eating something that had been in a rat’s mouth, even though at first she was grossed out. It was easier to not mind after she saw how diligently he cleaned himself, many times a day. 

Soon enough she couldn't keep him out of the hidey, and then she was dragging in a moth eaten blanket for him, and… well, either way, he sort of became her pet, and it surprised her how quickly she got used to living with a rat. 

A rat! The same thing she’d been scared of as a kid. But rats were a lot sweeter and smarter and social than she’d ever imagined, and sometimes she swore he was like a dog. 

Wait, she got distracted again. 

Cashew! Summer. That summer, hot and muggy.

The thing about heat is everyone’s a little angrier. A little testier. More awful. 

She heard yelling, first, and then laughter. The kind of mean laughter that meant the other kids found something to pick on. When a high squeak proceeded their laughter, though… she and Skittles were out of her hidey in a second flat. 

A group of kids had formed a half circle around Cashew (she later named him that because of his light colored coat, a contrast to Skittles’ fudge brown). Cashew had a broken and severely swollen leg caught in one of those dumb rat traps. The other kids, meanwhile, were chucking rocks at him, and laughing.

She. Saw. Red. 

One moment she was hanging back staring in horror. Then suddenly she was in front of all those kids, screaming like a maniac, waggling her arms wildly, and practically spitting in her rage.

She must have looked so crazy and feral that they’d thought better of sticking around. In theory, that was hilarious, because these were the same kids that had beaten her up before. In reality, she was way too worried about the battered rat to be gloating about her success. 

Once they skedaddled, it was onto rescuing him. 

Freeing Cashew ended up being an arduous process, because he didn’t know she wasn’t going to hurt him. His tail lashed, his teeth snapped, and he refused to stand still. He flailed the rat trap all over the place, and once nearly knocked her out with it.

One way or another, though, that evil little metal bar was lifted, and Cashew, just like Skittles, was off like a shot, though his gait was lopsided with his injured leg dragging.

“I wish I could have done more,” she admitted to Skittles later. He simply twitched his whiskers, and stared at her like he might understand what she was saying if he looked long enough. 

Cashew wasn’t gone forever, though, nope. Just like Skittles, he came back. The food she left outside of her home probably helped. 

For a while, all Cashew did was eat that food, usually when she wasn’t around to notice. For a while, she even thought the other kids were robbing it! But Cashew got braver. Then she got to see him darting furtively closer, and snatching food. 

She winced at his distorted gait, and the useless limp foot that dragged. But there was nothing she could do. He was terrified of her. If she even moved a muscle, he’d be gone. Over time, his leg healed, but it was always crooked after that, and he never put much weight on it. 

Cashew was never brave enough to go inside, like Skittles, so he became the outdoors rat.

“Why don’t you invite him in?” She told Skittles sternly, and Skittles simply nuzzled his little pink nose under her arm in a demand for pets. 

Sighing, she scratched behind his ear. “Maybe one day.”

Once you have an indoors rat and an outdoors rat, she supposed you deserved to be called Rat Girl. Maybe even Lonely Rat Girl. It wasn’t like she’d planned it, or even had any affinity for rats before all this. But… hey, telling the truth: she didn’t mind at all.

Life was hard, but it was hard for everyone. At least rats weren’t as complicated as people. Plus, they sure were a lot cuter, too. 

Of course, the other children formed gangs with each other for a _reason:_ protection. Safety. 

There were disadvantages when you were lonely, or rather, _alone_. 


	3. Chapter 3

Six had spent the past few weeks on the outskirts of a city, whose domain had toppled long before she reached it, and now it lay in desolate ruins, occupied only by remaining groups of scuttling children, and the occasional adult too checked out to leave. 

She’d eaten most of the stragglers who weren’t clever enough to form groups with other kids. That was a bit of a mistake. It didn’t leave many loners who might be interested in friendship. 

Realistically, she’d like to meet someone the way she met Mono: that is, she had saved him from the Hunter’s cabin and he’d looked up to her and admired her ever since. That had worked out really well. So doing it again? That’d be great. But it wasn’t easy to repeat such an event, and anyway, who was to say that this new Mono would be as grateful?

Hence her hunt for some individual who wanted company, like her, and who didn’t have a band of friends already.

Fortunately, she hadn’t killed _all_ of the stragglers. 

There was this one girl.

Six had been watching her for a few days. She was kind of weird looking, which may have partly explained why the other kids didn’t like her. She had pale skin, _lots_ of freckles, and frizzy brownish red hair. She harbored a small obsession with scarves, usually wearing at least two around her neck. Humorously, Six had seen her trip on the end once or twice. The numerous scarves lent the impression that her head sat upon a pudgy mass of fabric. Meanwhile, she also wore ill-sized and cracked glasses which were constantly slipping down her nose. If Six had to hazard a guess, she’d conclude that the girl had stolen the glasses from the trash. Maybe the weirdest thing about her was the fact she had a few pet rats. They didn’t follow her _everywhere_ , but when they turned up, they had a fondness for her, even taking food from her hands, or giving her food.

Overall? Not the kind of kid people wanted to be around. 

That was okay: Six wasn’t the kind of kid people wanted to be around normally, either. So they already had something in common, something they could bond over. 

Six still watched her quietly, studying her new friend, thinking about the best way to approach. It was funny - she’d never given much thought to those kinds of things before. But she really wanted this girl to like her. Sure, the girl didn’t look anything like Mono (she wasn’t even a boy!). That was okay, though. All part of pretending. And Six wasn’t going to be unreasonable: she wasn’t going to rule someone out just because they weren’t some kind of doppelgänger. 

The girl was still a warm body.

A good way to make friends was with food. Well. Six didn’t have much experience making friends (Mono had been the only one to last more than a couple weeks), but if someone offered her food, she’d want to be their buddy. So. Food. She wasn’t dumb enough to expect the girl to want to eat Six’s favorite food, so Six first had to go out of her way to raid and loot nearby houses. Almost everything had been cleaned out already, so it was arduous process that left her with a can of beans and a piece of bread that she picked the mold off of. 

It would have to do. 

On a frigid December afternoon, while the girl was outside heating her water bucket on a small fire, Six dared to make her approach. 

She crept closer, keeping her stance as innocuous and unassuming as possible, and then held out her food offerings to the other girl. 

The girl blinked at her. 

Six gestured the food closer.

“For me?” The girl asked, eyes narrowed like she thought this was some trick. 

Six nodded. 

“Uh… thanks.” The girl grabbed the items with gloved hands and then set them aside. She didn’t express any interest in consuming them immediately, or at all. Did she think they were poisoned or something? Did she distrust Six? That was disappointing. She also hadn’t said anything else. 

Irritation flared. Mono had been very talkative. For the first year or so of their friendship, he’d been the only one to even say words! And boy, he said a lot of them. So Six would really like this girl to be more chatty, and fill the spaces that Six left open, just like Mono would.

Of course, in the later part of their friendship… Six _had_ spoken. She couldn't even say exactly why or how. Mono had never demanded it of her. He had never put pressure on her. Never even got upset that she didn’t speak. In fact, maybe it was how accepting he was that prompted her to make an effort for him. Because he would never make fun of her. Because he would accept her, whether she spoke or not. Because there was less stress on the whole subject.

Thus, with him she’d said the first tentative words she had uttered in many years; he’d been happy, but quiet-happy. Not over-exuberant or frightening, and there had never been an expectation of her speaking again. Yet she did. Again. And again. And again. Until she got more confident with it. 

Of course, she knew her voice was ugly. It was raspy from disuse, and all her syllables were flat or wrong. But he never minded. 

Six didn’t want this girl to mind, either. She wanted her to get used to her voice quickly.

Six took a deep breath. She was going to need to talk to this girl early, yes.

“I’m Six,” she enunciated, doing her best to sound confident and clear, even when her voice barely raised above a whisper.

The girl’s eyes flicked over to Six again. “You’re Six?” she said, maybe for clarification. 

Six nodded, pleased. 

“Are you the one that’s been following me everywhere?”

Heat flared across Six’s cheeks. Oh no. The girl had _noticed_? Normally Six was more sneaky… Although she guessed she had been a bit obsessed, and not as careful about being unseen. 

“Why were you following me?” The girl asked. 

Six’s throat closed right up. This was a terrible first introduction. Anger clawed up her insides. It wasn’t going well at all. The girl wasn’t supposed to notice - 

Frustrated, Six stalked off. The girl hadn’t even said thanks for the food!

That night Six traveled far, and was mad enough to kill and eat a group of three kids who had huddled together. Since they weren’t alive anymore to use the space, she took over the basement area that they had been bunking in. There she thought more about her dilemma. 

What she needed was a way to win the girl over to her, like she had won Mono by saving his life. She had watched this girl long enough to know that she really did have an affinity to rats. Weird, but tolerable. She tended to free any rat captured in a trap, therefore Six hatched a plan. 

She drew inspiration from the time that Mono had snared a rat for her to eat. That is to say, she found a bit of old wire to shape into a snare. That part took a while. She didn’t really know how Mono had done it, and it took a lot of experimenting before she was able to create a functional snare. 

The next step was setting up the snare and baiting it, which ended up being hard, too. For bait, she foraged from the corpse of her last meal and placed the morsel in the center of the snare. Once she had to chase off a hopeful cat, and twice rats managed to get the morsel without activating the trap.

By this time, it was nearing sunset and Six was very irritable. How was she supposed to come in as a hero if she couldn't even snag a rat?

Fortune struck before complete nightfall. A stray rodent went for the morsel, and this time, didn't escape without getting its body bound up in the wire that tightened the harder it struggled. Six watched its body squirm. Its teeth gnash. The squeals it made were high-pitched, terrified. Plenty loud enough for anyone within a two block radius to hear.

The signs of its struggle had hunger rumbling low in her belly. She didn’t _need_ to eat, not terribly, not after last night. But hunger felt nice. Often it was pleasing, to eat when one didn’t need to. Maybe she could eat the rat instead. She'd find another way to win over the girl’s friendship. 

Except then the girl came tearing into sight. 

Six belated flipped into rescue mode, waving frantically at the girl and then pointing at the rat. The girl didn’t need much prompting. Together they dove in to save the thrashing creature. 

They were in unison! It wasn’t pretty, or easy, and the rat was determined to make things worse for itself (dumb creature, just like the kids too dumb to survive). But more importantly, her and the girl were working together. Just like Six and Mono used to work together, fighting a common enemy, having victories. 

When the rat was finally released, and went skittering away in terror, the two of them took a moment to just breathe. 

It was only when the girl seethed through her teeth, and the faint smell of blood hit Six’s nose, that she realized the girl had been bitten. 

Six’s eyes instantly gravitated to her forearm. There the girl’s muddy green jacket was torn, edges stained red. 

_Oh_. 

“Damnit,” the girl muttered. 

Six’s stomach churned hopefully. It took gargantuan effort to pull her eyes away from the sight. “I can clean it.”

“What?” The girl looked up. There was the same confusion in her eyes as the first time they had met. Like she couldn't comprehend why Six was talking to her. “No, it’s fine. I can get it, just-”

Six grabbed her wrist. She fought down the urge to dig her own teeth in. She was going to help. Not kill. “I can clean it.”

For a moment, it looked like the girl was going to say no. Then, stiffly, she nodded, eyes distrustful. “All right.”


	4. Chapter 4

Six had plenty of practice cleaning wounds. Mostly her own, but not always, especially after meeting Mono. He got her used to helping others, because he was accident prone, or at least - not as savvy on the streets, not at first. Whenever he got hurt, Six would jump for the chance to clean out the injuries, because there was something intimate in the routine. Something _meaningful_. It was hard to say exactly what.

Maybe it was the inherent kindness in the gesture, the knowledge that her intervention would prevent infection from setting in, and would keep his heart beating. Yes, that was part of it. 

But there was also pleasure cradling a mutilated limb, smelling the rich familiar aroma of his blood, and holding back the slavering hunger that ached to devour him piece by piece. Love lay in the desiring; love lay also in the resisting. So how could she not find wound tending intimate? 

It seemed only fitting that such a thing should characterize Six’s first (real) meeting with this strange, solitary girl.

Six did her best to remain objective and focused.

She followed the girl docilely to her place of residence. It was more of a lean-to than anything, a little shed. The girl had hung blankets over the entrance to make it more private. Random goods were stocked on the shelves inside. A dark brown rat was curled on the floor; its beady little eyes relentlessly watching Six as if it distrusted her. Once when the girl wasn’t looking, Six bared her teeth at it.

Supples were fetched. Six’s hands went on autopilot, performing the steps with an expertise bred from practice: rising, cleaning, bandaging. Her mind was miles away from the rote gestures, instead focused wholly on the details of the injury. Four punctures, deep enough to be worrisome even with a rigorous cleaning, but too thin for Six’s liking. She much preferred more exposed meat. Her own teeth ached to rip in and give her what she wanted to see. But then she’d have nothing left to be her friend, and that wasn’t ideal. 

Thin as these wounds were, they bled profusely. Hot blood bubbled up and trickled in the crevices between Six’s fingers. Such a waste, to wipe her hands on the proffered towel, when instead she could be licking them clean. Only she doubted the girl would appreciate her savior lapping up her blood like ichor. 

When Six finished cleaning and bandaging the wound, she sat back. The girl studied Six’s work, turning her arm one way and then the next. “You really know what you’re doing. Thanks.”

Six nodded, tucking her hands in her lap docilely. She did good work. She always did. 

“Hey…” the girl shifted. “I’m sorry, by the way. I’m not really used to people being nice to me.” She said it matter-of-factly, like it didn’t bother her at all. “So I thought you might have been following me for some kind of bad reason, and wasn’t very keen on talking before…”

Six shook her head. It didn’t matter. That was then. This was now. And now - now she was in the girl’s house! Well, calling it a house was a bit much, but it wasn’t like Six had anywhere better to live. She was in the girl’s house, and they were talking - oh wait, Six probably should do more of that. 

The old anxiety about talking clenched around her throat: it was almost worse now that the girl wasn’t a total stranger (if she talked badly in front of a stranger, who cared! Well, Six cared, but less so than she would for someone she’d established some kind of bond with). Six was well-practiced in wrestling that anxiety-beast though. She powered through and uttered in monosyllables, “What’s your name?”

The girl had stood up to tug off one of her many scarves, and now she looked back down at Six in surprise. “It’s been so long since anyone just asked me that. Like a normal kid, hah!” Six didn’t understand what was funny, and hoped she hadn’t said something weird. “Well. You sure you really want to know?” 

Six nodded. 

“All right, fine. It’s Rosemary. Please just call me Rose, though, the full one is embarrassing…”

Rosemary. Rose. “I like it.” She didn’t like it. It didn’t sound anything like Mono. Sweet Mono. Thinking about him, the lurch in her stomach was strong enough that she quickly had to halt the longing that begged to pour in. Shh. Not Mono. But close. A new friend. Rose could be _like_ Mono. She did smell good, and Six did very much want to eat her. She could be just as good. Well… She at least could be company, and eventually, a meal. She- 

“Other kids call me Lonely Rat Girl. I guess if I had to pick between the two, Rose is better.”

“What about Mono?” Six blurted before she could stop it. That was a problem: nowadays she focused so much on talking, while _not talking_ was so innate she never had to think about it. So sometimes things slipped out. 

“What?” Rose looked at her oddly.

Ah, that was weird. That was a weird thing to say. “Nevermind.”

“O-kay.” The girl pushed her glasses up her nose. She did that a lot; they were always slipping. “You want food or something?” She shuffled over to a shelf and began rummaging in the cans. 

“No.”

“You sure? You did fix my arm and everything so I guess I kinda owe you.” Rose returned with a can and a knife, which she jammed into the lid and began see-sawing back and forth. 

“No.”

Rose shrugged. 

“I’m not hungry,” Six tried. 

“You gotta tell me where you get food, then,” Rose gave an ugly snort in laughter. “Most kids are starving.”

Six’s fingers curled lightly over her stomach. She wanted Rose to know. She wanted to tell the truth. Because then they could be closer. Honest with each other. Only Six didn’t say anything, didn’t admit to anything. Because she knew that the reality wouldn't work out the way it did in her head. Mono may have been sympathetic, but that was partly because he was Mono, partly because Six had tried a new tactic with him, a slower one, a _build up_ to the revelation of her preferred fare. If she wanted Rose to like her, she would have to do something similar. 

By this point, Rose was digging into the food. It was something sickeningly sweet smelling. Some kind of fruit, probably. Six stared intently at Rose while she ate, as if trying to memorize every freckle, before remembering that staring wasn’t something that people liked usually. 

So instead she looked around the room. Boring junk, boring junk. And that rat. Still staring at her. Six didn’t like him. 

“That’s Skittles,” the girl said through a mouthful of fruit. “He’s pretty much the best thing to happen to me since I got tossed out.”

Six hummed noncommittally. 

“Don’t underestimate him just ‘cause he’s a rat. They’re crazy smart. Smarter than a lot of kids around here, if you ask me.” Bitterness was laced in the word, but Rose shook it off and finished the can. “So I said my name and his name: what’s yours?”

“Six.”

“Six.” Rose nodded, like approving of the name, and that felt oddly good. The next words ruined any good feeling; “Anyway, I’m really glad that you helped me save that other rat, Six. But you should probably go.”

Six whipped her head back around. “What?”

The girl had the sense to appear ashamed, color showing up on her pale cheeks. She tucked her head lower, looking not unlike a turtle with her remaining scarves tucked under her chin. “Sorry. You seem nice, but… this is kinda what I’m used to. Anyway, if the other kids see you hanging out with me, they’ll probably beat you up, too.”

So that was it? The whole trap she set for the rat led up to a brief conversation, and now she was getting kicked out? Six’s heart kicked into overdrive. She didn’t want to leave yet. She didn’t want to go out alone on the streets, to find some nook or cranny to sleep in. She didn’t want to live that way anymore. She’d even tolerate the stupid rat if it meant she could stay, but Rose already had her mind set. 

If Six didn’t do anything, she’d be escorted out the door and their first meeting would be over. She had to say something. Do something. Otherwise who knew when they could talk again? Whether Rose would be interested in listening?

The seconds continued to zip by. _Come on come on come on_ _say something-_

“I lost someone.” Six blurted, abrupt and too loud. 

“Oh.” Sympathy broke across Rose’s face. “I’m sorry, Six.”

“His name was Mono.” It gave her a shiver to say. This came easier. Her eyes glittered fervently. “He was my best friend.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“I miss him.”

Her hand rested on Six’s shoulder. “I’m really sorry. That must’ve been so hard.”

It felt like there was more to say. So much more. She wanted to explain everything he had done, or said. What he meant to her. She wanted Rose to understand everything, and then _be_ everything, but that just wasn’t possible. The futility of it frustrated and paralyzed her, while silent seconds zoomed by. 

“I haven’t really lost someone like that,” Rose began to say, and anger clawed at Six. She had waited too long, and now the moment had passed. Now the girl was talking about herself, which Six had no interest in. “But I can only imagine how painful it is. I-”

Six jolted to her feet, shirking off the girl’s hand. She set to pacing. Six didn’t want pity, empathy, or sympathy. None of those things were comforting. None of them were Mono. This was all wrong. She wanted to call the girl Mono. Wanted to hear his voice saying her name back. Wanted to feel his hands on her. 

Six growled. The girl was supposed to make these feelings alleviate, not make them worse!

“Is - is everything okay?” Rose broke in.

“I don’t want to leave.” Rigid and hard. 

“Uhh.” The girl was twisting her fingers together and looking away. She didn’t know quite what to do with Six; she was making that painfully obvious, and that only irritated Six more. Six had made a total social mess out of this, and her cheeks burned red. She should just kill the rat, and trap Rose. Stop _her_ from leaving. Stop her from protesting, or showing Six how awkward she was being. Everything was easier when people didn’t have choices. Then they could be friends. 

Six’s breath came ragged and shaky. If she did that, Rose would never _really_ care about her. It wouldn't be the way things had been with Mono, where he genuinely liked her for her. 

Yes. She needed patience. For things to organically develop. Like they had with him. 

Six found herself nodding and stepping back. “I’ll leave. It was good to meet you.”

“Uh-”

Six darted out the door. Yes. Things could still be salvaged. They could still be genuine friends, if she played her cards right. 


End file.
